


The Chronicles of Freaky Friday

by SSChrys



Category: Arthur (Cartoon)
Genre: Drama, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23282221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SSChrys/pseuds/SSChrys
Summary: Arthur Read is now 25 and desperate for work post-college. Principal Haney sets him up at a private school, and Arthur shamefully moves back home to take work at the school. His students are troubled and need his guidance, but he needs them just as much as they adjust to life.
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a next gen piece where Arthur is 25 years old. I’ve rated this piece T for adult language and possible adult content in later chapters. Also this piece is very Arthur-centric and most of the cast are OC’s. This piece was written for NaNo 2017. PM me for more info

CHAPTER ONE  
Moving back home was probably the most humiliating thing I’d ever decided to do. I was already pretty bummed about taking six years for my undergrad just to get rejected for my Master’s program, and then I ended up back in Elwood City, back in my childhood bedroom. Well, I guess it became DW’s room when I left because the walls are purple now and half the boxes are from her various girl phases. It’s barely home anymore, and it’s definitely not where I wanted to be.

But beggars can’t be choosers. I’m only here because of Principal Haney, now known as Headmaster Haney at Springdale, a private school for at-risk learners. When he saw my parents’ long-awaited announcement in the paper, he called them immediately (it’s not like our number ever changed) and asked how to get in contact with me. He called my cellphone the next day and offered me a position as a teacher, an eighth grade teacher. My degree covered all middle grades, six through eight, so this was a fine offer.

“Which subject?” I asked, only to find out I’d be doing all of them for a group of twenty kids. They stuck with the early elementary model, namely to cut back on errors when multiple teachers see different things. I’d be spending my entire day with these kids teaching them everything from literature to science, and I’d do a lot of their training one-on-one.

I didn’t ask about pay because it really didn’t matter. My student loans were going to cost me four hundred a month, and my car plus insurance already cost close to three hundred. With seven hundred down the tube before I even bought food or anything else, I was stuck at home, and I knew I’d probably have to suck it up and ask Dad if I could help with the catering business on the weekends. If things were still bad after the first of the year, I’d have to ask Mom if I could help with taxes. The only person I’d ever refuse to ask was DW, who was in a dental practice and making more money in a week than I’d seen in years. At least Kate had just started college so she couldn’t one-up me much more, though she did have a full-ride scholarship and offers for several more…

Getting started at Springdale was my top priority other than making enough money to get out of my parents’ house, so I tried focusing on that. The school was located just a block away from the old Lakewood Elementary, which had been torn down to make the new Lakewood Elementary after the city discovered a serious mold problem in the school. Students were shifted to other schools for two years while they built the new school, which I hadn’t seen until my first trip over to Springdale. It was beautiful, but it somehow wasn’t as beautiful as my new school. Springdale had a modern touch, something I’d grown to like while in school. Its second story shimmered in the morning light, and the place somehow felt like home before I even stepped inside.

I parked in the small employee lot and went inside. I found the front office with ease. A young secretary in a band t-shirt and torn jeans greeted me. She led me into a small conference room to fill out my paperwork to make this whole thing official.

“Arthur Read, I’m so glad you’re here,” Headmaster Haney smiled, patting me on the back. “I knew you’d make something of yourself all those years ago. I’m glad I can put that to use here. We’re really going to need it.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I nodded, not sure what else to say. I decided to focus on the job at hand, “When do I get to meet my students?”

“I’m glad you asked, Arthur. Once we get these papers finished, I’ll show you a PowerPoint made to introduce you to everyone. You’ve got fifteen kids so far, but enrollment is still open. As you can tell, we’ve got quite a bit of space, but we’re still working on filling our spots,” Headmaster Haney explained.

“How does enrollment work here? Is it just like the other private schools in the area?” I questioned.

Headmaster Haney nodded, “Sort of. We only take in at-risk students, students with documented learning disabilities or long files of behavioral issues. We only want who the other schools would consider bad apples, but we don’t treat them that way. They’re all good students here, I hope. Last year went alright once the fights died down. We have an officer here full time now just in case.”

I gulped. A police officer for a bunch of students in first through eighth grades? How bad was this place going to get?

Headmaster Haney smiled, “There’s really nothing to worry about. You’ll know ahead of time, thanks to the presentation, who could cause you the most trouble. A lot of our older students just need some help navigating the whole adolescence thing. You’ll have students questioning their sexuality, trying to find their own ways to express themselves, and the like. Fights may break out, but that’s what the panic button is for. There’s a red button at every desk at the very front of the room. Please only use it if you really need it.”

This barely reassured me, but I signed the last paper and watched as the secretary set up the presentation using a laptop at the front of the room. A projector came to life and showed me a class picture from the year before. Fifteen red circles showed me my new class of students.

The names and information were all a blur to me. This was all standard information that you’d find in a file. I had three students with autism, one with severe dyslexia, and a kid who was kicked out of seven different elementary schools for starting fires (which he thankfully hadn’t done since starting at Springdale). Two females were flagged for early signs of sexuality issues, which Headmaster Haney explained could be them either questioning who they like or becoming sexually active early.

“We have measures in place to help students who need it, so be sure to direct them here if you need to. I’d rather you embarrass yourself talking to a thirteen-year-old about sex than deal with them crying because they’re pregnant or got raped. Several parents have left after finding out we had programs like that for a first-through-eighth school, but those wackos are in the dark. We start our sex ed program in third grade here. It’s the basics at first, but by the time they reach sixth grade, we get to the serious stuff. And we bring in professionals to do it, so you’ll only lead your class to the auditorium and sit to the side with the rest of us,” Headmaster Haney smirked, seeing my ill expression.

I nodded, “So, the first day of school follows the city schedule?”

“For the most part. We give longer breaks, but to make up for it we go a week longer. We also have summer programs, which you can do next year if you’d like. Right now I want you to enjoy the next few weeks. If you have any questions, call me,” Headmaster Haney said, sliding me a business card. 

I tucked it into my wallet and looked up at the last slide, which had the yearbook portraits for each of my new students from the previous year. I had to admit, the class did look just like the kids I hoped I’d be teaching once I finally finished my degree. I thought I’d have a Master’s before I stepped foot into the classroom, but I’d have to wait it out for now. These kids were my only ties to the education world, and I was eager to get started.

But I had two weeks to wait, two weeks I wouldn’t get paid for. After getting my room settled and cleared of DW’s things (and pricing paint online. Not cheap), I had to suck it up and ask my dad for work, just like I’d done as a teen desperate for dating money. I felt like shit just for asking, but my dad thought it was the greatest thing ever. I was added to the schedule and started with him the following evening. My humiliation was complete.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO  
After two weeks of lugging around boxes, completed dishes, and whatever else I could carry, I finally started my real job at Springdale. I knew the employee lot would be tight, so I walked over my first morning. The school was less chaotic than Lakewood Elementary, but it was enough to make the building come to life with an electric buzz. I stepped inside and entered the front office, where the young secretary (who was dressed in a much more acceptable outfit, though still fun. Her dress had ice cream cones all over it) handed me my badge and a few different schedules. I found my room number and settled in.

Each room was pre-decorated with the important parts. A pull-down atlas that had world maps, maps of the different continents, and zoom-ins of our state and region covered the front wall. An encyclopedia set was on one bookshelf, but the others contained the textbooks we’d be using in-class. Tablets were kept in a rolling cabinet, which is where there ebook would be. Students could take the tablets home, which is also how they’d do their homework.

The posters covered different subjects, and I already saw a math one I’d probably have to pull down during tests. It had numerous formulas on it, most of them being what we’d cover during the year. I made a mental note as I pulled out my grade book and copied the names. My roster was almost a copy of the one presented to me by Headmaster Haney, but there was a new addition. 

Alexander Moss, age fourteen with some serious learning setbacks in previous years, looked up at me from the printout the secretary had included in my paperwork. He wasn’t looking at the camera in the photo they had of him, though I thought I saw a lazy eye. The kid just looked different, trademarked different, but it was nothing unusual. I’d seen kids like him all throughout school. In fact, he reminded me most of a new kid from elementary school, a kid named Slink who spent most of his time at Lakewood trying to piss people off. This continued into middle school, so much so that he was kicked out and sent to the alternative school of the county. Something happened there that made him change, so by high school, he was your typical teenaged boy, goofing off between classes and trying to stay out as late as possible on school nights.

This is where the story irks me though. Slink got into community college and started taking classes the first summer after we graduated. When I came home a few years later to see my family for Christmas, he was the guy running the maintenance department at the dealership we used. I figured this out when my car crapped out and he came out personally to tell me all was well with my car (and that he was giving me a family discount for whatever reason). I was mad because this kid was done with school, though he still was taking classes to get more certifications in his field, and I was still in school with no hope to graduate anytime soon.

But the good news? If Alexander could follow the same path, he’d be fine. All of the troubled students in my class would be fine.

The problem? I was the one who had to get them there. I was their teacher, their only teacher aside from the art, gym, and music teachers they’d see once a week. It was my responsibility to teach them, but also to gauge their needs and help them in any way I could, the Springdale way.

A bell chimed and I had to fight fleeing the room. Suddenly the weight of what I was doing hit me like a ton of bricks, and I heavily contemplated leaving the school, hopping on the first bus out of the city, and never looking back.

But I needed something, and I’d picked education years ago when I first started college. I had to see what this was like.

The first student entered with a second one not far behind. They were obvious friends hanging onto each other’s company, taking two seats in the middle of the room. I’d intentionally not made a seating chart in a way to earn their trust, and to get to know them, and I was glad to see their smiles when they realized the desks weren’t labeled.

The next five students entered in a heap and took seats at varying parts of the room, though none of them picked the front row. The next two boys did, taking spots directly in front of my podium. I recognized one as one of my autistic students, and I secretly hoped my projected voice wouldn’t cause him any harm, at least until I saw him bring out a pair of blue camo headphones to put on his desk. The other autistic students had their own sitting on their desk, and while the girl rocked in her seat at the back of the room, she let them sit there.

When the tardy bell rang, I was still missing two students. The first came in with a red face from running. He took one of the open seats in the front, though I could tell he wanted to be anywhere but in front of my desk. The last student was still missing. I checked my roster with pictures and realized it was my new student who was missing. He was probably finishing up paperwork, I thought, turning to write my name on the board. When I turned around, he’d snuck into the room, taking the last seat at the back of the room. Students glanced at him in a bad way, some of them in recognition. I pretended to get my papers in order, but really I was checking his file.

Troubled student. Left in sixth grade after INCIDENT. No updates.

The note at the bottom of the page almost disappeared in the stack, but it made sense. Headmaster Haney told me Springdale had been in operation for two years prior. The first was a test run for a limited number of students, and Alexander must’ve been one of them, as were the kids giving him the side-eye. I didn’t know what “INCIDENT” meant, but I knew this kid was fighting an uphill battle even before we made introductions.

After the morning announcements, I lead the class through a warm-up game. I started with an individual part, then I grouped them into sets of four for the next part. I did this by randomly choosing names from an Excel sheet, a trick I’d learned during one of my math courses, and watched as the students moved around the room. Almost everyone had to get up from their desks and move elsewhere, but not Alexander. He remained steadfast, and his group followed suit, taking the seats around him and pushing their desks together.

I passed out worksheets with some getting to know you questions. Not only would it allow the students to interact with each other, but if their answers were accurate, I’d have a way to gauge different skillsets that would be important for later. I walked between the clumps of desks and found myself at the grouping with Alexander last. His group members looked frustrated, and I soon saw why.

“Are these the correct answers?” I asked Alexander.

The only girl in the group huffed, “No! He’s just putting down whatever he wants! That is NOT what I said!” she exclaimed, getting a nearby group to quiet down and listen.

“I need accurate answers on these, if you don’t mind. There will be plenty of other times to express your creativity,” I explained.

Alexander shook his head, “Nope, I’m making this better.”

“It’s not better if it doesn’t make any sense,” another group member sighed, turning to me, “Can we get a different group? Or just kick him out? Please?” he begged.

“We must learn to work together, and in this case, you’re the one who needs to adjust,” I said to Alexander. “I want accurate answers, and I shouldn’t have to stand here to make sure that gets done. Now, I want to hear her answer again and watch you write it down.”

I nodded to the girl, but it was clear that Alexander wanted no part of this. He was trying to assert his dominance and see how far I’d let him go. The first thing he wrote was a curse word, then another. The boys at the table saw and groaned, but the girl ignored them and kept talking. When she was done, there was a line of curses that made no sense, just a list of curses.

“Incorrect, and rather boring. If you’re going to write the wrong thing, at least make it interesting,” I said, working hard to keep my cheeks from blushing. I’d heard the words before, but seeing them spill from the hand of a teenager was different, though not unexpected (where do you think I heard the words for the first time?).

“Fine!” Alexander huffed, erasing the curses and his original nonsense and writing something new, something similar to what she said, “But it’s not right!”

“Then tell me what is,” I pleaded. “How else would you get to know each other?”

“You can start by getting our names right. I know it’s in your paperwork, so go look it up!” Alexander exclaimed, quieting the entire room this time.

I stood firm, “No, there is nothing like that on the paperwork. What would you like me to call you?”

“Freaky Friday.”

“Oh dear god,” the girl groaned, crossing her arms to resist.

“Are you sure you want to be called that?” I questioned as I walked to the front of the room.

“It’s who he is,” a boy called out. “The boy’s a freak. No wonder he can’t do a worksheet without the teacher.”

The class was attempting to take control, but I quickly silenced them and got them back to work. I gave up on standing behind Alexander, but changing his called-by name to Freaky Friday on the roster seemed to calm him down, even if the rest of the class was on-edge well into the morning. Him just being there was causing a rift in the room, one I could almost see every time I looked up. The class hated this kid, but I knew it wasn’t him as a person, no. It was his actions that caused this, actions I already had a taste of. Something told me his issues went beyond wanting to make a worksheet more interesting by writing his own thing. He wanted no part of the education process at all, and not because of any intellectual setbacks. Other kids in the class did have learning disabilities and would need more care, but Alexander was one of the smart kids. His file had a list of his top scores from the standardized tests of his youth, right above where his bad behavior took over and got him kicked out of three schools in two years.

Alexander was bored, very bored, and it was up to me to engage him, redirect his boredom, and keep him focused on the goals at hand. The only problem I could see was the rift. He’d already showed his hand to the class, a bully’s biggest struggle. They already knew he could be an ass, that he could shift a lesson to his ways at the drop of a hat. That would be hard to fix, but boredom? I knew all about boredom. And since Springdale was private, I knew I could do whatever I wanted to engage him.

Maybe teaching wasn’t so bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE  
I’d had maybe eight family dinners in the years I was at college. I didn’t come home the first Christmas or Thanksgiving because of a few colds I caught, but I came home that summer for a week to meet up with some old friends. I came home once the entire time I was in Elwood City, then I didn’t come back until my birthday the next year (at Grandma Thora’s insistence). I sprinkled in a few holiday meals, but it wasn’t until my humiliating return that I actually sat down with my parents.

It was as awful as I thought, only doubled because of the missing people at the table. First it was DW running off to college a few miles away to student dentistry. She found her calling at stuck to it, looking back about as often as I did. And now Kate was away two states south in a university that recruited her, yes recruited her, for her intelligence.

So here I was the odd kid out. I’d found my calling in education, but school was rough. I had to take a few courses over, luckily never enough to put me on academic probation, but it was enough to push my graduation date further and further out. This caused problems with my family because I must be fucking up somehow. It must be my fault my Math for Education professor was older than dirt and couldn’t teach worth a flip. It must be my fault my literature course was taught by a real-life neo-Nazi. Everything was on me because my sisters were perfect. They were so perfect that on my first night after my first real teaching job, it was just my parents and me.

“How was your first day?” Mom asked excitedly, eager to hear whatever I had to say while my father stared at the table cloth, disinterested enough to look away but interested enough to keep listening.

I shrugged, “It was exactly what I expected. I’ve got a nice mix of students, some more troubled than others. I’m interested to see what happens when more of them have a bad day.”

“Why is that?” my father questioned. David was a man of his generation for sure, so when I told him I was working with troubled students, he had no idea what I was talking about. There was no such thing when he was in school, so what changed?

“I have a few autistic students, and one has a flag for episodes. I’ll be fine. I learned about it in a student psychology class a few years back. It was eye-opening,” I said deadpan, watching my dad’s lips move as he muttered something I chose not to hear.

“Well, how do you like working with your old principal?” Mom asked.

“It’s interesting, unexpected really. I’m lucky to have this job,” I replied, “and I think they can help me get into a good Master’s program when I’m ready. I think I’ll start over the summer.”

“How long will that take you?” Dad asked with a condescending tone.

“Doesn’t matter. You won’t pay for any of it, remember?” I replied coldly. This had been a battleground for years. Dad didn’t want me to get student loans and drown myself in debt, but whenever I asked about help, he always said he couldn’t. Yet he paid for DW’s first two years, plus other expenses, and paid for a first-class ticket to get Kate to college. But I’m on my own AND taking too long for his preferences. Made no fucking sense.

Mom cleared her throat, “I heard the city schools are thinking of observing Springdale to see if they can implement any new methods into the public schools. What do you think they’ll choose?”

“None of it,” I said plainly, “Our class sizes are a quarter of theirs, our budget is higher per child, and our students are seen as individuals instead of as a population. They refuse to deviate from state mandates to help the students, so nothing will change.”

“Why deviate from what the government says is right?” David asked angrily.

I scoffed, “Hitting up the politic sites again, huh? The guys writing the curriculum have never set foot in a classroom. They don’t know what these kids need other than more and more tests. I don’t have to do that here. The eighth graders will take the standardized test to help them get into high school, at least until Springdale expands into the high school market, but I don’t have to teach to the test. It’s liberating. I have several students who are going to benefit from this. I plan on going to the library tomorrow night to research materials for them. And the best part? I don’t have to ask Uncle Sam for approval over a kid he doesn’t care about in the first place.”

My parents remained silent, and luckily I finished my food before they could find their voice again. I retreated to my room and looked over my to-do list. I had to look over the worksheets from our introductory project, plus I needed to double-check the website for the class to make sure they could do their first online assignment, a three-paragraph essay where they tell me who they are, what they want to be when they grow up, and what I can do to help them. Several students already posted, but I’d grade them that weekend. For now, I needed to see the worksheets.

Only one was done incorrectly. After I left, Alexander decided to leave his own commentary with each answer. It was derogatory and rude, but I knew he was bored. Now I just hoped he did the first assignment so I’d know how to help him.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR  
The first week went by quickly, which I expected once I looked through my lesson plans. The first two weeks were introducing the courses I’d be teaching to my students. We started a major vocabulary unit to build up their math skills, a grammar unit to prepare for later readings, and basic storytelling to get them into both their social studies and science units for the months ahead. It was exciting stuff, plus I was getting to know each student and their needs. Lectures were fine for most, for example, but others needed more. I spent many nights preparing research materials, specifically school-friendly videos, to help the students who needed a more visual presentation. For those who learned by doing, I created and dug up worksheets.

Every night, the kids had homework too. That first week was simply getting to know them. Night one was to introduce themselves, but the subsequent nights asked about their previous math, English, science, and social studies classes, saving a short Friday/weekend topic about arts and music for last. I graded that last on Sunday night before I remembered skipping over those introductions.

I slapped my forehead as I used my battered laptop to pull up the first discussion board. I eyed the responses and saw that many students followed my instructions to reply to others. By my math, only about six students didn’t do that, which wasn’t bad considering. What was bad? The original threads were off by one, and it didn’t take a detective to figure out which person didn’t post.

I groaned as I made the mark in my grade book. Starting off the year with zeroes was particularly bad, even though this was only a small assignment worth maybe five percent of their entire grade. The numbers weren’t appalling, but it gave me a clear idea of what I’d be getting in the future, which was a struggle, one I needed to get at now. I needed to confront my offender the following morning, but I had to figure out how to do it.

Alexander didn’t give me much to work with. While he’d done his other assignments, they were bland and passionless. He stuck to a script almost, going through each subject meticulously. For math, for example, he listed every example he could think of for the units he’d missed or flourished with, so much so that students latched onto the information to help themselves along (which reminded me to turn off that feature for the next threads. I wanted fully individual answers, but my training was short and my memory shorter. I’m glad I figured out how to do it in time). Alexander’s introduction should’ve fit that script—systematic, sticking with exactly what I wanted to hear.

I needed more information, but I already knew him from class. Waiting so long to grade their opening assignment gave me a lot of insight on everyone, but I only had the once incident with Alexander to go on. The kid was bored and desperate for attention, and judging by his responses to the other questions, there was a reason he didn’t do that opening introduction.

Overnight, I contemplated how it would go, but I knew it would be up to Alexander as to how it would truly go down. I started my Monday class like always, this time starting with the rest of our science lesson from the previous afternoon class. Everyone was groggy but awake enough to jot down a few notes on the PowerPoint handout I’d given them.

When the lesson was over, I released them for their first break. It was a ten-minute-long unsupervised break that allowed them to go to the restroom, get a drink, or grab a snack. Today Alexander wouldn’t be doing that.

“Alexander, do you mind staying behind a moment?” I called. He was already one of the last kids out the door, which thankfully kept the glances to a minimum.

“Yeah?” he asked, clearly unamused and unphased by my request. He stood before my desk with the typical tired eyes of a pre-teen.

“I finished grading the class’s homework for last week. You didn’t do the first assignment and I’d like to know why,” I said firmly.

Alexander scoffed, “Really? It’s worth, what, five points max?”

“It’s a percentage system, a strict one. It’s not simply five points here or there,” I replied firmly and flatly.

“That’s ridiculous and you know it,” Alexander spat, standing his ground firmly. “I’m not doing it, I won’t do it, and you can’t threaten me to do it with a bad mark.”

“Then how about you just tell me why you won’t do it in the first place? You’re right. It’s simple numbers, stupid numbers. What’s five percent? But it would only take you a minute, maybe less. It’d be easy.”

Alexander leaned forward, “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then make me understand,” I whispered, low and deep. I’d been in battles like this before (from his position…), so I knew what to do. I had to comfort him and help him see I was actually on his side.

Alexander shook his head, “Nope. You’re just some straight-laced guy who’s buddies with the head guy. You’ve never been in my shoes and you never will. Besides, our parents can see those things. What would they think? They’d probably get you fired.”

“Fine, we can do it on paper. One page of notebook paper, just the front. You have until the end of the week and I’ll count it with full points. Plus, no matter who comes my way, I won’t let them see it. I’ll burn it when I’m done reading it. But let me read it, please. I know it seems like some dumb assignment to you guys, but it’s important for me as your teacher to really get to know you,” I said solemnly.

Alexander smirked, and I honestly thought I’d gotten through to him. He returned to his seat as the others returned from their break. He sat in a semi-attentive state as I went into the day’s math lesson (still boring vocabulary. They didn’t respond well to games yet, so it was strictly lecture), and he remained the same through the English lesson.

When the bell rang for lunch, he lingered behind the others. When they were gone, he placed a single sheet of notebook paper on my desk. I was erasing the board and didn’t turn around until he was gone. When I did turn around and pick up the paper, I was happy to be alone. I couldn’t help but laugh at his juvenile yet clever response:

I AM FREAKY FRIDAY


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE  
The teacher’s lounge at Springdale was just like any teacher’s lounge I’d seen during my education. Two coffee pots, both larger than the ones we had at home, sat between rows of mugs on a counter next to the sink. A water cooler was tucked into a corner, touched only in the late afternoons before we went home. A refrigerator was stocked with anyone’s lunches, though Springdale’s food was some of the best I’d had at a school.

Comfortable tables sat in the middle of the room, but it was the lone couch along the far wall that always held Headmaster Haney whenever he wasn’t at meetings. During my planning break while my students were in another class (it was gym today. The room would smell lovely for the rest of the day, and not in a good way), I always stopped in for a cup of coffee. Today Headmaster Haney sat alone in the room thumbing through his smartphone. I poured a cup in one of the mugs and sat beside him.

“So, Arthur, how’s your time here going? I meant to ask you after the faculty meeting last week but something came up,” Headmaster Haney said, tucking his phone into his shirt pocket and shifting to see me a little better.

“It’s better than I expected,” I admitted, which was the truth, “I was pretty nervous in the beginning, but I’m getting there.”

“Are you having any problems that I need to know about?” Headmaster Haney questioned.

“Not really, at least nothing too major,” I replied, again honestly, “I have one of those kids who’s dying for attention. I’ve already had to chat with him about doing a missed assignment, and his response was…well, it was expected for a kid his age.”

Headmaster Haney nodded, “I see. Do you think this is going to be a continuing problem?”

“Of course it is. He’s dying to get into more trouble, but I don’t think he’s figured out how to do anything yet. He’s one of those smart children who gets bored easily. I’ve already found ways to keep some of the others entertained, but he’ll be harder. I look forward to the challenge.”

“Well, Arthur, you’re exactly what I expected when I posted this job. The first teacher we had was an older man. He taught at Grebe Middle School while you were there. I wouldn’t be surprised if he taught your parents too,” Headmaster Haney smirked, shaking his head, “He was too set in his ways. We had to let him go at the end of his first year. The parents were complaining too much, and he honestly wasn’t living up to the vision we had for the place. I think he understood. Honestly I thought he shouldn’t be working. He had to take the bus here because his eyesight was too poor for him to drive himself.”

I shook my head, “I don’t think I know anyone like that, but that’s sad to hear. He was okay with the decision, wasn’t he?”

Headmaster Haney laughed, “He moved to Florida the next week. He posted on Facebook a long rant about how he should’ve done it sooner. I think he only held out because one of his children had a child young, so he wanted to be there for their milestones. Now that he’s online, he doesn’t have to worry about it.”

“What about the first teacher in my spot?” I questioned after taking a long sip of my coffee. My break was disappearing fast.

Headmaster Haney sighed heavily, “Well, we only had one teacher in the beginning for thirty students. We tried to find a second one, but the woman we hired was as gung-ho as I’d seen among your generation. She tried too hard at everything, and I do mean everything. This isn’t public knowledge but she tried to run off with one of the students, well, when he gets older. We quietly let her go and settled out of the courts with his parents. She’s extremely lucky that she didn’t get jail time.”

“Damn,” I muttered, not expecting that.

“I expect you to do fine, and truly, if you’re only having the trouble with the one child, I think we made a good choice. For the variety of problems in your classroom, I’d say that’s fine. And don’t forget you can keep them after school for tutoring and whatnot. Just…don’t be like either of your predecessors,” Headmaster Haney winked.

I laughed, “I promise I won’t be.”

I drained the last of my coffee with five minutes remaining. Back in my classroom, I quickly chewed a piece of minty gum and spat it into the trash. My students returned a moment later, all but one. I’d already written their assignment on the board just in case my coffee break ran long, so I went to a student I could trust once they started working.

“Hey, do you know where Alexander is?” I whispered to a girl on the second row. She nodded politely as she tried to find a page in her science textbook. I shifted, “Where is he then?”

“The office. He punched another kid or something. None of us saw what happened, but the other kid had a bloody nose,” the girl replied, finding her page and picking up her pencil.

I studied the class then stepped into the hall. Headmaster Haney was already heading my way with a form I recognized from a stack in my desk: a disciplinary action form. I hung my head and leaned against the wall until he got there.

“Is this about your troubled student, Arthur?” Headmaster Haney asked in a low whisper.

“Looks that way,” I replied, shaking my head, “Are you sure it wasn’t an accident? What if the kid is lying?”

“We’re pulling footage from the hallway where it happened, but a few kids came into the nurse’s office with the kid and told her everything. This is a very serious offense, and if the allegations are true, which I suspect they are, he’s going to have a hearing instead of just suspension. Springdale has a zero tolerance policy on violence, same as the public schools. I can’t let this get by. Are you sure he didn’t have any other problems?”

“None that he’d admit, but I got the feeling something might be going on at home,” I replied softly, hoping no one in my classroom could hear me.

Headmaster Haney nodded, “I’ll look into that as well when his guardians come to get them. My secretary is contacting them now. I’d let you talk to him, but I need to handle this. I don’t have anyone who can cover your class.”

I sighed, “It’s fine. I want to be at the hearing, and I’ll stop by this afternoon to look at the footage for myself.”

“That sounds fine,” Headmaster Haney said, moving past me and turning back towards the main office.

I stepped into the classroom to find my students staring at me. They returned to work a moment later on yet another vocabulary exercise. Maybe if I’d forced them into more games, even though they weren’t helping most of the class, I would’ve gotten to know Alexander better. Part of me felt I already knew him enough. He was cocky and liked to do things his way, but I didn’t know if he’d go towards violence to fulfill his own personal goals. I knew from my own middle school experiences that the word of one’s friends weighed the same as gold, but it wasn’t always the truth. What if the other boy was lying and pulling others along with him?

I had too many questions, but I had a class to handle. When they finished their exercise, I had them come to the board to put down the answers so they could grade their own papers. When we were done, they handed them in (smelling just as lovely as I thought they would after gym class. Yuck!), then they returned their science textbooks along the wall. They kept out their notebooks and jumped into our day’s math lesson next, writing down the vocabulary before jotting down their first formula. We finished our day playing with numbers, the dyslexic students struggling the most as they flipped and flopped on their pages.

As soon as the exit bell rang, I went to my spot at the bus line, helping to guide younger students to the right bus while keeping the older students out of trouble. It was thirty minutes of controlled chaos as busses came and went, and my mind, the entire time, was locked on Alexander.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX  
I stepped into the main office to find the secretary frowning at her computer. She looked up to me and sighed, pointing to the conference room where I’d started my time at Springdale. Unlike that first day, the light was on and there were clearly people inside.

“I’m glad you’re here, Mr. Read. Headmaster Haney is having a chat with Mr. Moss, Alexander’s uncle. His aunt already took him outside, but…just go in and see what you can do,” she sighed glumly, looking the most defeated I’d ever seen her.

I walked into a battle zone. The conference room was well-lit because both the lights and the projector were on, basking the room in artificial blue light. Mostly clear footage covered the screen. I’d only been over to that part of the school a few times, but I recognized the gym hallway that led to the locker rooms. The boys’ locker room was first, and each student was in clear view.

The footage played, and I watched as Alexander emerged from the room in the official Springdale gym uniform of a green t-shirt and grey shorts. As soon as he stepped out, a taller boy from another class met him with a posse of other boys behind him. I felt the room tense as the taller boy bumped shoulders with Alexander, who didn’t react at all. He barely shifted despite the force, and he continued to walk forward.

I could see the taller boy’s eyebrows twitch. He was one of those Alpha types, one of those guys who just HAD to be in charge, and he didn’t take Alexander’s reaction lightly. In a flash, he grabbed Alexander’s shoulder. He appeared to fall, but it was really Alexander throwing his weight behind a punch. It met the taller boy dead center, a flash of blood appearing as Alexander’s hand fell and the boy’s hand rose to the damage site. Alexander steadied himself and kept walking, but the taller boy was surrounded by his friends and a few girls who’d stepped into the battle area to see what was going on.

“See? He did this on purpose, ON PURPOSE, and you called me in here for NOTHING! Just expel him now and be done with it so we can move him AGAIN!” the uncle yelled.

Headmaster Haney shook his head, “The footage shows he was provoked. He’ll be suspended the standard three days, but that is the most we can do. Your nephew did nothing wrong.”

“It’s what I thought it was, huh?” I asked, stepping further into the room and getting the uncle’s attention.

“And who the hell are you?” he spat, turning towards me in a way that reminded me of lions at the zoo. I somehow maintained my posture as I took another step into the room.

Headmaster Haney spoke for me, “This is Mr. Read, Alexander’s teacher. When he didn’t return from gym class, he became concerned. I knew he would, so I explained what happened. He felt that the victim was lying, and he was correct.”

“I’ve only had Alexander a few weeks now, but I knew this wasn’t like him,” I said calmly. “How long have you known him?”

The uncle scoffed, “I knew his deadbeat father back in high school, and his whore mother is my wife’s sister. I knew they’d be trouble as soon as they met, and now look. I’m raising some demon spawn who goes around hitting people. And YOU PEOPLE just let it happen!”

“I assure you we’ve addressed the issues with our coaches so nothing like this will happen again, but your nephew did absolutely nothing wrong,” Headmaster Haney argued, saying words I could tell he’d been repeating for a while, possibly hours at this point.

The uncle shook his head, “He should’ve kept walking like a real man! He knows the rules and he should follow them!”

“What would you do? I mean, if this was, say, at the grocery store, what would you do?” I asked.

“What does it matter? We’re talking about Alex, not me!” the uncle exclaimed.

I shook my head, “No, we’re trying to get YOU to see the point, so this is about YOU now. What would YOU do if some guy shoulder-bumped you in the middle of a supermarket?”

“I’d clobber his ass! What do you think I’d do?” the uncle laughed darkly.

I turned to Headmaster Haney, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Alexander knows you’d act that way, and if you’re his father-figure, he’s going to react the same way. You have to show him the right way or he’ll never learn.”

“Learn? Teaching him is YOUR job, not mine! I’m only letting him live in MY house because of my wife! And the state said we had to or whatever or he’d go to foster care. Total sob case!” the uncle huffed, pointing to the screen, “There’s your evidence right there. Just expel him so I can get rid of him.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Headmaster Haney said firmly, “I will not expel a student for something he ultimately did not do. If you want him out of your home that badly, I’m sure there are plenty of local foster parents who would do your job for you.”

“My job? Please,” the uncle groaned, shaking his head, “Just like I thought, a complete waste of time, and now you’re telling me to get rid of him? This place is ridiculous! I’m leaving, and I want those expulsion papers soon, you here? No tolerance, no violence. You wrote the rules, now follow them,” the uncle said in a way that I took as a threat.

As soon as the uncle was gone, Headmaster Haney sank into a chair. I collapsed into the one next to me, exhausted despite our short encounter.

“I’m glad you were right, but I don’t like that you were right on both counts. What alerted you?” Headmaster Haney asked softly, clearly drained by the meeting.

“The assignment he wouldn’t do was a simple introduction. He was afraid someone would see it, so he decided not to do it. I thought he wanted to say something he couldn’t at home, like maybe he was gay or had suicidal thoughts or something. I offered him the chance to do it offline. He just needed to give me a short piece, one side of notebook paper, and I’d burn it after I read it. I kept what he put,” I said, smirking at the memory, “He just wrote in big letters I AM FREAKY FRIDAY. The kid just wants an identity, and accepting that he’s a freak is just making him worse,” I sighed, “but now I see why.”

“I glanced at his file before his guardians arrived. His father is in jail, but his mother is still out there. There aren’t any criminal charges, but she gave him up. Her sister stepped in, but I bet when I call my police contact, hubby is going to have some domestic calls on his record. I told security to be on stand-by all through dismissal in case we needed to add to it,” Headmaster Haney sighed, shaking his head slowly, “It’s too early in the year for things like this.”

“What’s your plan?” I asked.

“I’ve already pulled the coaches aside and told them to monitor the hallway at all times. They aren’t allowed in the locker rooms during class hours except in emergencies, but the hallway is monitored and should be safe,” Headmaster Haney explained. He continued, “As for the boy, he’s in trouble. He already had some bullying claims against him last year, but it was nothing we could prove. This? This we can prove.”

“What about his group of friends, the people who would testify in his favor?” I questioned.

Headmaster Haney smirked, “Footage doesn’t lie. I refuse to expel Alexander for defending himself, though the punch was extreme. He’ll be suspended for three days and asked to meet with the counselor a few days a week. The other boy will be suspended five days and must go before the board, which consists of myself and five benefactors to the school. Two are on the local school board, so they’re used to this.”

“And he’ll be expelled?”

“Probably handed a stern warning,” Headmaster Haney sighed, “Even here, there really isn’t much we can do. That’s the other reason we can’t expel Alexander, plus there’s no need to. I hope that uncle wakes up and lets up on the kid or something, but we know that won’t happen. As long as Alexander’s aunt stays in that situation, Alexander will be at risk. I want you to keep a close eye on him when he returns. Report anything you see.”

I agreed then left Headmaster Haney alone. I walked to the library, checking out a laptop and taking it to an upper floor. It was silent on the floor aside from the air vents, but I still couldn’t think straight. I now had all the evidence I needed to know just how bad Alexander’s life outside my classroom was. I didn’t know what to do with this information that wouldn’t alienate him from the other kids, even though I suspected that’s exactly what he wanted. Only time would tell, but part of me knew that kid’s only goal in life was to completely disappear.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN  
Alexander’s empty chair was haunting. Our first math exam took place in a nearby computer lab, but the number where Alexander would’ve sat was empty. Our first science quiz was the day after, this time on paper in the classroom, but his wasn’t in the stack. The first English quiz was set for the day of his return, but that was the time I had the counselor retrieve him, leaving his seat empty again.

The good news about his absence was how the class handled it. Part of me expected them to join in with the enemy, the bad kids (aka the instigator’s friends) who were spreading vicious rumors throughout the middle grades about Alexander, rumors I could see him enjoying. So far the story had changed dozens of times, but the latest version was the most popular: Alexander’s eyes glowed red as he exited the boys’ locker room and he struck the victim without warning, hissing like a wild animal as he did.

I expected these rumors, and I knew Alexander was going to be missing from class for those three days plus a few more periods as he worked through his punishment, but the entire situation ate at me. By that weekend, I was walking around in a fog, something my father immediately called me out on when I joined him for a Saturday event, a wedding between two extremely rich families that had enough food for entire countries.

“Arthur, chin up! You keep that up, you’ll ruin this whole thing!” he scolded. He was right that I could’ve messed up everything. I kept bumping into walls and stumbling over my own feet. My mind was completely elsewhere.

But I made it through the event, though I almost wish I hadn’t. When we got home that night, my mom was sitting up in the living room watching some silly reality show, her smartphone in her hand. She was in a Facetime call with DW, who laughed cruelly as one of the girls came on-screen.

“God, look at those teeth! Mr. Ed’s were in better shape!” she cackled, tears forming in her eyes. When she finished, she looked up and saw me in the background, “Well if it isn’t my beloved older brother. I’m looking forward to tomorrow night.”

“What?” I murmured, sinking into a chair so DW couldn’t see me anymore.

“We’re having a family meal tomorrow night with DW. She’s bringing the entre,” our mom said. I groaned quietly, but it was still enough for DW to hear, especially when Mom paused her show.

“I think that’s a great idea. I’m too beat to cook much more than a side,” Dad said, sinking into another chair with a can in a cozy. When I was a kid, I thought they were exotic sodas too expensive for us kids to drink. In reality, they were his hidden beers from the garage freezer. He kept them in a cooler so they’d be cold but not cold enough to freeze and bust (most of the time).

“Well it’s a casserole, so just make some punch or something, or maybe dessert. It’s up to you, but it’s nothing fancy. I just wanted to catch up with everyone, especially you, Arthur. I’m glad I’m not the only one with a real job anymore,” she laughed.

“Now DW, your brother was working hard in college,” Mom scolded, but it was without feeling. Either she was too tired to have this argument (again) or she really did agree with DW that I was taking too long to get my shit together. It didn’t matter to me, though. I was done.

“Good night, everyone. I’ve got some papers to grade, so I’m heading up early to get a head start,” I murmured, moving away before DW could say anything to me.

Once I was upstairs, I sank onto my bed and pulled up my laptop. I was in need of a new one, but not until I had a few paychecks in my account. Until then, this one would work well enough to grade my students’ online work.

When I opened the handy assignment tool, I noticed Alexander had completed most of the homework assignments he missed, but I was going to keep him after school the following Monday for the others. His aunt responded letting me know that was alright, but part of me wondered if it really was. Until then, I could only look at his homework to see how he did.

As soon as I looked through his new responses, I found he’d responded to the initial introduction after all. I opened it up to find a Word document attached. I opened it to find that it was password protected. I shook my head, a smirk on my lips, as I tried the trusty “password” and “PASSWORD” in the box, but I still wasn’t granted access. I could sense he wanted me in, however, so I looked over to my grade book. Each student had a six-digit student I.D. number. I found his on the list and put it into the box.

Success.

Two pages spread before me, but I knew what it was by the first line, “So, I guess you know who I really am now.” He knew I’d met his uncle, which meant I knew about his situation. I felt awful as I read through the summary of his life:

When Alexander’s mom was still in high school, her sister introduced her to a young man. Her sister was older and seemed wiser, but the guy she had her meet was awful. Well, he was awful later on. At first it was your standard “girl dates questionable older man,” but it soon became a high school statistic.

Alexander was born a month after his mother graduated. His mother was kicked out, so she moved in with her lover. He seemed to like this at first because hey, my young girlfriend is living with me, but Alexander had changed his mother. She wanted to attempt night school while she worked, which meant leaving Alexander in someone else’s care. This was okay at first, but soon money was too tight, which meant she had to stay home with Alexander.

When he was seven, his father and mother got into a fight bad enough to get violent. His father was arrested (which is also when he was charged with a bunch of things that Alexander summarized as “drug stuff”), which left his mother alone. She tried the whole work/college/mom thing again, but she was a broken woman. When Alexander was eleven, he was sent to live with his aunt and uncle.

He had nothing to say about these people other than the simple “My uncle is a jerk,” which I already knew. I could tell it was hard for him to write about his past, so I kept my feedback simple, namely to hide what was really in the document.

Then I moved on to his other assignments. His first handful were exactly what I expected. His math homework was done correctly and in the format I requested. His English essay was short, probably because he thought the reading was “totally boring.” But his science work was password-protected again. I input his student I.D. number and was granted access to another paragraph, this time short and sweet:

“My uncle wants me expelled. I don’t know why, but I guess he wants to get rid of me or something. If I’m expelled or bad or whatever, I guess he thinks my aunt won’t love me anymore. I know I’ll end up in foster care some day, so why delay? I mean, I’m glad you guys are sticking up for me. You and Haney are cool dudes. But my uncle is right. Just let me go.”

I closed the laptop. Everything in me wanted to go outside, take a long, long walk around Elwood City, find the house, and beat the snot out of his uncle for treating him like this. I could practically see Alexander shrugging his life away, and all of it was because some guy, who was supposed to be family, wanted nothing to do with him.

I couldn’t do that, so I closed the laptop and tried to sleep. When I couldn’t, I got up and opened the laptop back again. The time was four a.m. when I added Alexander’s 100% grade to the book. I couldn’t comment there, so I knew I’d have to tell him Monday what I was up to and why. I refused to let him fall through the cracks, which meant there was only one thing left to do: I had to get rid of the uncle.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT  
Doing anything that involved DW was a certified nightmare. What she meant when she said she’d bring dinner, an entree at that, was that she’d have several dishes for ME to load into the house. It was just like the day before at the wedding, except, again, I’d done a wedding the day before. I also had more papers to grade, but it had to be ME to lug everything into the house. Why did the library have to be closed on a Sunday?

Once everything was inside, she tried to get me on the hook again to cook yet another something else, but I somehow managed to get our dad to do it instead. I got back to my grading, which I was VERY behind on, and tried to focus. But again, anything with DW was a nightmare. I could hear her blaring voice from the kitchen. It was like an air raid siren permeating my thoughts. I was beginning to wonder if my brain would explode from the invisible waves of sound crashing through my quiet life.

Of course when everything was “ready” (“Something is still cooking but it’s a surprise! We can start now!”), I had to come down and join them for what became an hours-long ordeal. Grandma Thora came with Mrs. MacGrady to join us, which only added more voices to this overpowering conversation.

I did the best I could, namely by throwing myself on the grenade known as “Arthur, how are you?!” I initiated the question before it was asked and dominated the answering, even when DW tried to break in again. What this bought me was time. I cleared my plate as soon as they were satisfied, then I rushed back upstairs despite the protests.

“Arthur, come back!” I heard someone call, probably Mom, but I ignored them and opened up my laptop. It took a minute for it to come back on, but soon I was back on my online courses grading through a short paragraph on a current event. It was a Monday topic from the week before, a topic I planned to do every Monday night from now on. My students were more insightful than they were given credit for, even Alexander, who was either freshly suspended or mid-suspension. The days were melting together, which I knew was a decent sign. If things had already fallen apart so much that I had a timeline, I probably would’ve added my resignation to the pile by now.

When I was done grading that part, I did venture downstairs as quietly as possible to see if dessert was ready. It wasn’t, so I hurried back up and looked through my online grade book to see if there was anything else I missed. That’s when I noticed the “ungraded attempts” sorting button. I pressed it and five new entries popped onto my screen, all of them from Alexander.

I took a deep breath before clicking on the first one. It was supposed to be a math worksheet, one of their first formula practices. The students had to download the initial document and fill in their own answers. Alexander did an okay job as he muddled through, but then I noticed the page count. He’d added something after the two pages I assigned. Before I knew it, I was looking at an essay about himself titled “Why I Became Freaky Friday.”

The scene he painted was dark. He was freshly taken in by his ridiculous uncle and semi-loving aunt, which meant a new school. According to his classmates, he couldn’t do anything right. He couldn’t do anything right at home either, but at least his uncle yelled at him to correct him. His classmates just led him through their own games. He defined it as “like the tides, they always pulled me back in and pushed me back out.”

So he retaliated by making his own game. Oh, I’ve already seen that BABY show you’re talking about. I’ve been watching *insert strange adult show here* because it’s better for me. Plus BOOBS. He knew what to add to make them listen, but he didn’t realize he was alienating himself until the blade came down. They started calling him a freak, and since he was eleven and already completely out of his element, he accepted it.

The best part of him becoming Freaky Friday, he admitted, was being himself for the first time in a very long time. He watched what he wanted, played whatever games he wanted, and became himself. His new school seemed to appreciate that, he said, but he wouldn’t forget that first school. They did this to him, and he said it was his uncle’s fault.

But he said nothing more. Dessert was announced so I went downstairs, grabbed a plateful, and rushed back up before they could drag me back into their conversations. As I nibbled at hot apple strudel, I opened the next assignment. It was another makeup assignment from the days he missed, but he didn’t add anything to this one or the next one. The fourth one, however, was different. It was password-protected…and only five hours old.

I typed in his student I.D. number and looked at the sentence in front of me:

Why are you so nice? And Haney too. What are you trying to do?

I had nothing to say on that, but I did grade the assignment honestly—10 percent, please revise. I could feel him smirk from wherever he was, an address I hoped I never learned.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE  
On the Wednesday of their third week, I assigned the first project. It would take four weeks, hopefully, and individuals or groups of students would do a presentation on the country of their choice. This geography lesson was a lead-in to history, so I provided them with an accurate list from several decades before. Each country they could choose from had become something else, a comparison I wanted for an accompanying essay.

It was a hard project that I encouraged groups for. I would take group assignments at the end of the day, but several students chose to be alone. I understood the autistic kids and the reason they wouldn’t want to work with anyone, but I was hoping Alexander would find a group to work with. When the last bell rang, I kept him and a pair of girls back.

“Alexander, I was hoping you’d find someone to group with. These girls are good friends, but I think they would accept you if you’re willing to join them,” I smiled. The girls didn’t seem to care now that they knew I was going to let them work together, a look of relief spread across their faces. Like me, they turned to Alexander expectedly.

Alexander shrugged, “I won’t be able to work with them outside of class. Won’t that hurt their grade?”

“We can work out a way for you to work with others. I have several class work times scheduled in the library,” I replied.

“We can’t really stay after school either,” the first girl whispered. “It’ll be okay.”

“They’ve allowed you in, Alexander. I’d like for you to join them, just this once. If it’s a disaster, I won’t push again,” I said politely, hoping he would see this as an act of kindness.

Instead, as soon as the conversation was over, he rushed away. The girls were left behind, but they shrugged and left the room hand-in-hand. I said nothing as I went to erase the board. When I was done, I turned to see Headmaster Haney behind me. He sighed as he sank into a desk.

“The best part of this being a first through eighth grade school are these bigger desks. I hated when teachers would invite me into their rooms at Lakewood and expect me to sit in those desks. I had nightmares that the fire department had to rescue me, making me the laughingstock of the nation,” Headmaster Haney smirked.

“You’re visiting for a reason, aren’t you?” I asked solemnly, sliding in beside him and turning the desk.

“I always have something,” Headmaster Haney sighed, “I just got out of the hearing for the kid Alexander got into a scuffle with. Not only were his friends there, but Alexander’s uncle managed to get in. Despite my protests, the other board members let him testify. He practically called the kid a hero and begged us not to expel him. He swore up and down it was ‘that other kid’s fault’ and demanded justice for this ‘poor victim.’ It was the most disgusting thing I’ve seen outside of the neglect cases. Those always stick with you, but so do these. That man is a monster,” Headmaster Haney spat, shaking his head glumly.

“What happened with the hearing? I’m hoping he didn’t have much sway,” I said with a very concerned voice, a voice I didn’t know I had yet.

Headmaster Haney sighed, “The suspension stands and he’ll be allowed back next week. The board decided it was our fault this could be allowed to happen in the first place, so they asked me to issue an official letter of apology to the victim and his family. They wouldn’t accept. Alexander was there and looked desperate to leave. I’m worried for him, but there’s nothing I can do.”

“He never has any marks on him, and he doesn’t say much about what happens at home beyond a lot of yelling. I’ll keep an eye out just in case. Plus, I put him in a group for a project. I want him to branch out and gain friends. He sent me something about his old school and how horrible the kids were to him, but my class is just confused by him. Why does he act the way he does? Plus they were genuinely concerned when he got in that altercation. They care about him whether he knows it or not,” I explained.

“Alexander is definitely troubled, but I think the true storm will come later. Build up that class to like him. He’ll need help getting through it, help you probably shouldn’t offer,” Headmaster Haney sighed, “What a world we live in that a teacher taking interest in his students is seen as a horrific thing. This world is horrific.”

I nodded and looked up as a pair of teachers left the building. I checked my watch, “Well, I need to get home to work on some grading.”

“If you ever need somewhere quiet other than the library, you can use my study. Do you have my number?” he asked. When I nodded, he smiled, “Just text me and let me know you’re coming over. You can use my study and my internet, my computer too if you need it. I know how it is living at home. Well, my mother moved in with me while I was still teaching. It was extremely hard to explain to my class that the dioramas they spent weeks creating were all gone now. My mother tossed them all out right after I finished grading them thinking they were all garbage.”

“I would kill my mother if she did that,” I said quickly.

Headmaster Haney laughed, “The thought certainly crossed my mind. Those students wanted them back, not just a graded rubric sheet, and several parents complained. I used it as a learning moment. I had to put my mother into a nursing home the next month. She meant well, she always did, but she couldn’t tell the difference anymore. I had her go to her doctor and I told him what was happening. She was diagnosed with dementia, so I let her go into a home. It was a nice place, private and very expensive. She died there ten years later thinking she was Audrey. She couldn’t remember the actress’s last name, but she was Audrey to everyone there. We were all sad to see her go,” Headmaster Haney whispered.

“I’m sorry for your loss…but I would’ve kicked my mother out without thinking about why she’d do such a thing. You’re better than me,” I said. I smirked, “I skirted out of family dinner the other night just to get work done. I was miserable and wanted to get away.”

“I know. Your grandmother cornered me at the store Monday afternoon, then Mrs. MacGrady called me later that day, much later than I thought she stayed up. You ruffled feathers, but you had no choice really. Teaching is a serious business with more paperwork than they could ever imagine,” Headmaster Haney smiled, standing up and stretching, “Plus, while I don’t relate to your generation’s struggle to leave the nest, I know it’s not easy to move back home when you thought you could leave. I hope you can soon.”

“We’ll see. I want to start my Master’s over the summer, so I’ll be adding onto my already sky-high student loans,” I replied.

Headmaster Haney shook his head, “Don’t do that alone. Come see me and I’ll get you the paperwork for grants. Not today though. Right now I have a parent-teacher conference. There’s a third grade student eating paste and acting like a kindergartener over all. I think we’ll have to let them go.”

I felt sympathetic for him as he left, but I knew I needed to get home. I gathered my things and walked home, and just in time. Rain fell in sheets as soon as I got home. I checked around for my family and found myself alone in my childhood home for the first time since I’d gotten back. It was blissful, and I spent the time taking a small nap. I’d save my grading and planning for tonight when no one would bother me, a trick I picked up in college, but I wish I’d learned it sooner.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN  
After dinner with the family, some take-out Chinese my mom brought home, I went upstairs to begin grading. I tried turning on my laptop without a response from the battered machine. It was plugged in properly, but it refused to turn on for me.

I troubleshooted for an hour before realizing I was on my own. This laptop was finally done, kaput, and I’d have to figure out another way to grade until I could figure out how to get another one, more like if I could get another one.

I returned downstairs to find the den computer available, so I logged on and went to my bank’s website. I checked my account and found twelve hundred dollars. The child within me thought that was plenty of money to get a laptop with, but I knew to dig around (namely from experience. Those were some tough days). My car insurance hadn’t come out yet, then I did the math for my loan payment. It would come out of my account the day before I got paid.

If I bought a laptop right now, I’d be two hundred dollars or more in the hole. If I left it alone and didn’t touch my account, I’d have just enough to avoid overdraft fees by the time I got paid. This was the good news. The bad news was that I no longer had a reliable computer.

“Hey Arthur, mind if I check the website? I think I have a wedding this weekend, maybe two,” my father said, studying my page, “Do you need help with any bills?”

“No, I’ve got enough for that,” I sighed, standing up and taking a spot on the nearby couch, “The problem is that my laptop just crapped out. I don’t know when I can get another one, and since this is the only home computer, I guess I’ll have to spend more time at the library getting things done.”

Dad shook his head, “I don’t know when we moved to these computers for grading homework and doing homework. Kate spent hours on this thing, and she was a fast worker.”

“It makes my life easier. No more excuses like ‘I lost your homework’ or ‘my dog ate your assignment.’ The same goes for the students,” I smirked.

Dad shrugged, “I just think it’s going to be a hassle for you. Can’t the school do anything for you?”

“The tablets aren’t powerful enough, but all technology like that stays at the school anyway. The students have assigned laptops, but that’s only for grades five through eight, and none of the teachers have one,” I explained. I sighed, “I’m just on my own unless I get a third job. Your money just gives me something to spend on lunch or gas, not that I’ve driven in a while.”

“Do you want me to talk with your mom about it? How expensive would one of these computers be?” Dad asked.

I shook my head firmly, “No, no, Dad, you do plenty. Please, I’ll figure this out on my own.”

“But if you need it to do your job—“

“I’ll figure it out, please. Isn’t it bad enough I have to live here AND pull a second job at the family business. Please, let me see what I can do on my own,” I begged.

Dad seemed to buy it, but internally I was screaming. Part of me really did want them to buy me a computer, namely because I really, REALLY did need it for grading. But I couldn’t bring myself to stoop that low. I was already living in my childhood bedroom (rent free, thank the gods), and I was already walking to school to save gas money up for no other reason than to buy more food or school supplies. I couldn’t add yet another freebie to the pile, no matter how badly I needed it.

I waited until my dad was finished with the computer (he was wrong. He really had three weddings), I logged into my grading account, praying my mother wouldn’t come in the entire time I worked through the previous night’s assignments. I debated adding a course announcement letting them know my grading would be sporadic, but I knew that would be admitting weakness to children, some of them who had enough money in their allowance jars to afford a decent laptop.

No, this was my battle, one I’d have to suffer through alone. I’d just have to work my schedule a little harder to get the most out of my available grading time. As I prepared for bed and thought about what that meant, I realized I’d have to stop working with my dad on Saturday’s, which was when most weddings were, just to get my time in. That meant less of an income, a problem I’d have to figure out later on. I had to get my grading done, so if I had to cut out a major source of my spending money, so be it.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN  
The next day in class I kept my problems to myself. None of the students needed to know that the one way I’d been grading their assignments was now done with, over, kaput, plus there was a fire drill taking place. I was warned in an email and asked not to tell my students, even the autistic ones that I knew would react poorly.

As they warned, the alarm rang around nine-thirty. My three autistic students lunged so hard for their protective headphones that one knocked his across the room. I grabbed it while commanding the others to line up at the door and wait for me. Someone tried to open the door as I handed off the headphones to the boy, who was now blocking his ears with his fingers as he rocked back and forth. I demanded the class stop where they were, but Alexander continued out the door. The others remained, so I stayed focused on them, helping the autistic students to the back of the line. Only when they were in order did we enter the hallway.

Springdale had a good layout for evacuation, and we were out a side door and marching towards a grassy field behind the school within minutes. The blaring alarm, which made my head ring inside the school, was now just a dull sound among the city noise, and my autistic students were slowly regaining their composure.

I joined the others, accepting a clipboard from the secretary and checking off my students. I looked around for Alexander as I made my marks, but he was nowhere to be found. I circled his name with the red pen I was given and handed off the board to Headmaster Haney as he walked by. As soon as he saw which name I had circled, he shook his head. He kept walking accepting clipboards from the other smiling teachers of Springdale. The students remained orderly as the all clear was sounded by a fire fighter waiting at the door.

As we filed inside, Headmaster Haney had the secretary lead back my class. He pulled me aside and pointed towards the playground, where the lowest grades evacuated. Alexander was sitting inside the tunnel with a small form next to him.

“What’s the story?” I asked solemnly.

“He must’ve come outside and seen the boy hiding,” Headmaster Haney replied, leading me towards the tunnel. As we followed the path, we got a better view of the other side, where a teacher was standing at the other side waiting for the boy to come out. After a moment, the boy crawled out. Alexander crawled out the other side, flopping on the ground as his thirteen-year-old frame struggled with the too small equipment.

“I want to know why you disobeyed a direct command,” I said firmly.

Alexander shrugged, “I didn’t want to die waiting for you to hand some kid some headphones. I know it wasn’t the real thing, but what if it was? You just risked the whole class over one kid.”

“Is that true, Arthur?” Headmaster Haney questioned.

“The email said we had to exit as a class in an orderly fashion. Yes I stopped to get the fallen headphones, but I kept them there to follow those orders,” I replied, angry that I was somehow in the crosshairs on this rather than the kid who had actually done the wrong thing.

Headmaster Haney turned to Alexander, “He’s correct. We ask that classes stay together to reduce the clutter in the hallways. It’s much easier to evacuate a line of students than a clump of whoever makes it to the front. It’s a safety issue, even during the real thing. I think Mr. Read acted accordingly. Not only can you not leave a person behind, but you can’t rush ahead on your own accord either.”

“So I’m in trouble for living?” Alexander asked.

I nodded, “Yes, and I’d like you to serve two days’ worth of detention to make up for it.”

“Detention? Over a fire drill? You’re kidding, right?” Alexander scoffed, kicking some of the playground bark before marching towards the school. Headmaster Haney patted my shoulder as we returned, entering through the playground entrance rather than follow us towards the upper-grades entrance.

Back in the classroom, the students were mostly back to work. Several students were struggling with the distraction of the fire drill, something the secretary did nothing about. As soon as I arrived, she rushed back to the front office, probably doing a million other important things.

Alexander sulked for the rest of the day. He watched me closely during their last private activity time. As they read a short story from their English book and answered some comprehensive questions about the text, I filled out the form to make his detention official. When class was dismissed, I slipped it up to the front office before taking my spot at the bus line. Alexander watched me the entire time, and I knew he felt betrayed.

But there was nothing I could do. Alexander had to serve his punishment, and I needed that private time with him to figure him out further. Plus he still had unfinished assignments he needed to do, not to mention his part of his group project. He had plenty of business to take care of, tasks I intended to oversee after school, and hopefully not too much after.

When I was finished with the bus duties, I found my way back to my classroom and logged into the room’s computer. I could stay at Springdale until five to finish my work, and anything after that could be done on a computer or a laptop at the public library. If I had anything left after seven, it would just have to wait until tomorrow.

I sighed as I started working, wondering why things weren’t the way I had always pictured them. Being a young teacher wasn’t romantic at all, and it was honestly starting to suck.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE  
Alexander’s detention was scheduled for Tuesday and Wednesday for the following week. He spent Friday and the following Monday begging me to change my mind, but the decision was final and backed by administration. There was nothing I could do but expect him to stay in my classroom after the final bell. My bus duties would be transferred to another teacher so that I could stay behind. He was an eighth grader, so he’d be spending an hour with me (elementary school students only had to stay fifteen to thirty minutes depending on grade level. All middle school students had to stay the full hour depending on ability). I intended to keep him the entire time.

When the class emptied out on Tuesday afternoon, Alexander glared at me from his spot on the back row. I picked up a folder from my desk and walked it to him, setting it down gently.

“Inside this folder are the printouts of your remaining make-up grades. If you finish them over the course of your detention, you’ll get full credit. If you do not finish, those assignments will lose half their points. If you have any questions, I’ll be up here, but please limit them,” I said firmly, sliding the folder towards him.

“I won’t do it, and you’ll just give me full credit anyway. I don’t understand you at all. You tell me an assignment is worth a certain weight, then I give you some crap about my home life and you just take it all away. You must’ve grown up with some crazy uncle too,” Alexander huffed, leaning forward in his seat as he waited for my response, and my reaction.

I sat down in a desk in the next row, turning sideways so I could see him, “No, I grew up in your standard American family. I’m the oldest of three kids, though I think they switched our middle sister with Satan at the hospital without telling us. I have a grandmother left who’s still just as feisty as she always was, though she doesn’t like driving at night. I’m as vanilla as they come.”

“Then what’s the deal, Mr. Read?” Alexander asked suspiciously.

“I knew a lot of guys like you in school. In fact, one in particular is what made me want to teach in the first place. He was one of those kids who got lost. I didn’t want that to happen to anyone else,” I replied honestly, trying to keep the sorrow out of my voice.

“He must’ve meant a lot to you if you were willing to waste all that time in school just to go straight back,” Alexander smirked.

I nodded, “He meant an awful lot to me. I know you don’t really have this, but I had one of those childhood best friends that was always around. We met in preschool and stayed best friends all through elementary school. Then we started middle school.”

“Public schools around here are that bad, huh? They can’t be much worse than this.”

“This is heaven compared to those schools,” I said firmly, “Headmaster Haney did everything he could to keep our elementary school straight, but the middle and high schools didn’t have that. No one cared, and man did it show. My friend went from lovable trickster to a token bad boy in one year. He got held back in seventh grade, but when we asked how he did once he got to eighth grade, his mom didn’t want to tell us.”

Alexander leaned back, “But she told you eventually, right?”

“She didn’t have to. My mom didn’t push it and looked it up. My friend left home with some of the guys he met. The drug charges were pretty simple considering his age. He only would’ve served a year or two in juvie for those,” I said, shaking my head. I looked up at met Alexander in the eye, “It was the assault that put him under. He’ll be your standard prison rat for the rest of his life.”

“What does assault mean?” Alexander whispered.

“He beat the ever living crap out of a guy over nothing. That’s assault, just putting your hands on someone else counts. When you take it as far as he did, he got it upgraded to attempted assault. It didn’t help that the school released his scores to the judge. They proved he had enough intelligence to know right from wrong, so he was charged as an adult. He got his GED in prison when we were just fifteen. He goofed off a lot in school, enough that a lot of people thought he was pretty dumb, but he was a smart kid, way smarter than me. I miss him every day,” I said.

“But, like, what really happened to him? I know where I messed up, but what about this kid?”

“The same thing really,” I answered. “His mother and father divorced when he was young, and it was nice for a while. I mean, it was like one of those old sitcoms with the perfect family, except his father flew for an airline and lived hours and hours away. Then the dad started a relationship with a new woman. He became an official commercial pilot just like he was when my friend was young. He had a hub, I think down in Atlanta, Georgia, and he was home mostly every night.

“I thought it was good until his father fought for custody. The real reason I lost touch with my friend was the distance. He lived in Georgia and I lived here, but we had the internet. We tried to make it work. He wasn’t having it, and soon we were learning about him in the papers. I couldn’t let that happen again.”

Alexander tapped his pencil, “Sounds to me like it was out of your hands. Teachers can’t just make parents get back together or fix families. All you can do is teach.”

“But I can give you the help you need at school that you can’t get at home,” I whispered, leaning towards him, “See, I had a decent life, but I get it. Some houses are just a prison with needlepoint ‘Home Sweet Home’ pictures and pumpkin spice candles. The people there can be worse than your cell mates. I get it, and I wanted to make sure that any kid going through stuff had a place to go, a person to turn to for advice. Yeah, I teach, or I try to. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m new to all of this, but Headmaster Haney gave me a shot. So far, I feel like I’m actually doing something. You’re the only kid I’m worried about.”

“So is that why I’m in detention over something this stupid?” Alexander asked.

I smirked, “No, I would’ve put anyone in detention who followed you, and a few students wanted to follow you. I know you want people to think you’re Freaky Friday, some weird kid in the back, but you’re a natural leader. So you’ve been dealt a bad hand. So what? You can still make something of yourself.”

“What if I want to be that weird kid in the back? I definitely don’t want to be a nerd like you,” Alexander grinned.

“I’m only asking you to be yourself, and yeah, it’s okay if you’re that weird kid in the back. It’s okay that you don’t feel like you can be yourself at home. The only thing I want for you is to change things around. Your uncle doesn’t define you. Only you can,” I said firmly.

Alexander thought for a moment, “So…why do you still give me grades for stuff when I just vent to you? I mean, I tried before, at my last school. Well, I went to the counselor. They said to suck it up and be happy for what I had.”

“They were wrong,” I whispered. “I give you the grades because you try, which is the main thing that I want. Plus the more I learn about you, the better I can help you. I can’t help you in some of the ways you want, but I can be there for you.”

“What about the others in the class?”

I shrugged, “I want to be there for them too, but you seem to need it a lot more.”

“My group partners could use it too. Those girls, well…they said they were lesbians, but I don’t really know what that means.”

“Girls who like other girls, and not just as friends,” I added.

Alexander nodded, “That actually makes a lot of sense. They hold hands a lot and talk about running away together one day. What could you tell them?”

“I don’t know them well enough,” I admitted, which was the truth. I chatted with my students. I’d even gotten one of the autistic kids to talk to me just by getting interested in one of his interests, international soccer. I hadn’t followed soccer since I dated Francine in high school (and even that was a bare minimum effort, thank you ESPN app), but I got back into it for him. Alexander was the only one I had anything private with, and it did feel odd now that I realized that.

“You should get to know them,” Alexander said, grabbing the folder and opening it, “One of my teachers in elementary school did this writing journal thing. I think you should do that for English or something.”

“I’ll consider the suggestion,” I said, returning to my desk. I got in a little bit of grading during Alexander’s hour of detention, but it wasn’t nearly enough. I had to stay until five, then I made the walk to the library in a steady drizzle that turned to a hard rain by the time I needed to leave at seven.

Lucky for me, my father came by to pick me up. Unlucky for me, DW was in the passenger seat.

“Don’t you have a car?” she spat, thumbing through her phone. Her pink scrubs reflected oddly in the dim light as we drove towards her house at the edge of a nearby historic neighborhood. She was renting, but still, my sister had a house before I did.

“Of course I have a car,” I spat back, “I walk because of the limited parking.”

“You might not want to tomorrow. This storm could last days,” Dad called back to me.

“Do you mind picking me up tomorrow night then?” I asked, knowing I could get Mom to drop me off if I asked her soon enough.

“Nope, he’s catering a meeting for me. We were just discussing the details over dinner,” DW smirked smugly. My stomach churned at the thought. I hadn’t eaten since lunch time almost eight hours ago.

“I won’t get out until ten or eleven. You could ask your mother,” Dad suggested, turning onto DW’s street. “Or you could drive yourself. It’s fully up to you.”

“I’ll talk to her,” I groaned, knowing parking would be a nightmare if a lot of us were going to drive. I sighed as I looked out the window to DW’s house. It was only a small two-bedroom, one-bath house, but it felt like a mansion to me.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, Dad,” DW said, waving as she rushed from the car to her covered porch.

I remained in the back seat and sighed again, “So, why were you driving her then?”

“Her car was hit the other day, so she’s got it at the shop. I thought we told you about it,” Dad replied, turning around at the end of the street and heading towards home.

“I probably wasn’t home when you discussed it,” I said, looking out the window and admiring how nice Elwood City looked even when it was pouring down rain.

Dad sighed, “You’ve been spending a lot of time away from home. How soon can you get another computer?”

“Knowing my luck, months from now. Oh, I won’t be able to work this weekend either. I forgot I had an essay due Friday that I’ll need all day for if I want to get any work done at all at the library. I’ll grade that Sunday and be at the library Saturday,” I explained.

“Look, I may have mentioned to someone your predicament. If you’re willing to work with this someone—“

“You told DW,” I interrupted.

“Yes, but only because your mom and I knew we couldn’t spare the money. She already has a laptop she can give you, but you need to ask her and talk to her about it,” Dad said slowly, knowing he was maddening me, angering me to the point of an explosion.

I shook my head, “I can’t do that. All she’ll do is rub it in my face the way everyone else does. You’d think going into education, I’d get treated like a professional, but no. All anyone sees is this bum living off his parents. If I mooch off her, it’ll spread like wildfire. Haney might not renew my contract.”

“He will renew your contract. You’re making too big a deal of this and you know it,” Dad sighed. “A lot of kids you’re age—“

“I’m not a kid anymore! I spend my day TEACHING kids, and look where I am. Laptops only cost a couple hundred, but I can’t afford that because of student loans. And I should just sell my car and get a bus pass. I’d save hundreds, and then I could afford the laptop.”

“No, because you’ll need it for days like tomorrow when it’s raining. Drive your car to school and call your sister,” Dad said firmly, pulling into the garage.

I left the car in a huff. I’d made progress with Alexander, but this was just further proof at just how unexpected my life would be. Yeah, a lot of people in my generation were going through the same thing, but I didn’t want things to be this way. And I would never, ever call my sister, especially DW, for anything, even if I did need it. I’d suffer on as long as I could, even if that meant eventually selling my car just like I’d said.

For now, I needed food and time to rest. I threw together a sandwich and ate it in my room, my eyes locked at the grey world outside as rain pounded the roof.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN  
The next morning was just as gloomy. Fog covered the city as a heavy mist continued to fall. I packed a small lunch and got in my car, securing one of the last spaces in the employee lot a solid forty-five minutes before the start of school. I entered the building, trying to shake off the cold rain, only to come face-to-face with Headmaster Haney as he unlocked a room for a substitute teacher. The woman, soaked to the bone with running makeup to boot, darted into the room and shut the door behind her.

“I was hoping to see you before class started, Arthur. Alexander’s aunt was the one who handled the detention initially, but—“

“His uncle knows now,” I answered. Headmaster Haney nodded as I took a deep breath, “So, what’s his response?”

“Why don’t we just expel him and be done with it? Why can’t we see the evil he’s doing to this school? The rant went on for ten minutes on my answering machine. I’m surprised he didn’t call back when it finally cut him off,” Headmaster Haney said, looking around, “I plan on doing a small observation this morning on your class. I don’t know if you knew this, but there are cameras and microphones in each room.”

“You’re right, I didn’t know that,” I said with a shocked expression, hoping and praying I hadn’t fucked up somehow that could be used against me.

Headmaster Haney laughed, “There’s nothing to worry about, Arthur. I did this with the group who provided the construction grant. They only work with schools, at-risk students mostly, so they partnered with the company. I decided it would be a good investment just in case. How do you think we caught your predecessor having those inappropriate meetings?”

“So, what do you plan to do?” I asked.

“I want to see Alexander in action. I’ll pull the tape this afternoon and tune to the time you tell me. I think that boy is smart and well-behaved. I think his uncle is absolutely full of it,” Headmaster Haney whispered, looking around, “and if you ask me, it’s only a matter of time before he decides to get rid of Alexander himself. I don’t think his aunt is strong enough to leave, but his uncle is mad enough to mess up.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I gulped, wondering how I got into a possible case of child abuse so early on, and in a school with hand-picked students with learning issues, though I did have to admit that Alexander felt like a stretch. He was smart, but he wasn’t some certified genius with social problems or an autistic child struggling within the prison of their own mind. He seemed like a normal kid on the bad end of things.

Headmaster Haney sighed, “I think you’re thinking the same thing I have ever since I met this boy. He got in through influence alone, I’m sure. Our admissions board is easily swayed by parents with problem children. There’s nothing wrong with Alexander outside of a bad situation.”

I shook my head, knowing this was the missing blank. His uncle likely pushed him into the school because he was such a horrible kid, when, in reality, he was a normal boy. He only reminded me so much of other kids I knew because of circumstances. Sometimes people try really hard and still get lost, and I didn’t want that to happen to Alexander.

I entered my classroom and pulled up the Jeopardy-like game I had planned for a few days from now. I eyed the day’s schedule and saw an opening during our social studies time. I switched up the list and made sure the game worked on the projector before looking back to my morning plans. I had a formula drill planned, but I needed to write them all on the board so the class could participate in filling them in.

My back was still turned when the bell sounded, sending my class into their seats. The tardy bell rang and a designated student closed the door for me. A moment later it opened, and suddenly what little chatter there was in the room died away. I finished up the last formula and turned around.

My eyes instantly locked with Alexander’s. One was blackened, and it looked to me like he was holding his arm funny. I said nothing as I went through the roster, checking off that everyone was here except a sick student, whose mother had emailed me earlier that morning.

When I went to my computer to log the attendance, I fired off a quick SOS email to Headmaster Haney. He was busy with the morning announcements, but I knew he’d come by later, and I was right. During our first break, everyone but Alexander left the room. A minute later, Headmaster Haney entered and took him away. I said nothing as I scratched through the review game, knowing Alexander wouldn’t be in class for the rest of the day. I just hoped things weren’t as bad as they looked.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN  
Headmaster Haney showed up after dinner. My mom let him into the house, and my parents somehow knew to clear out so I could talk to my boss in a dignified space (aka anything other than my childhood bedroom). Haney and I ended up in the kitchen over a piece of pecan pie.

“I escorted Alexander to the hospital on the nurse’s order. They needed to x-ray his arm, so I took him and stayed with him. He claims a bully jumped him at a city bus stop. I asked how true this was, he said one hundred percent, so I offered to call the city police for him. The poor boy let me,” Headmaster Haney whispered, taking a long sip of the milk I’d poured for him, “I knew it, Arthur. I knew there was no bus stop bully.”

He went on to tell me the full story. Alexander gave an address, which was a real city bus stop. There was a bakery across the street, so when city police arrived, they contacted the business about security footage. The manager refused, but only because there hadn’t been anyone at the bus stop all day. There was a huge puddle outside the area that kept spraying the sidewalk, so everyone moved on to the next one.

Alexander stuck with his story, so the city police investigated the two closest stops. There were several shops around each willing to cooperate, but it was clear that Alexander wasn’t there. His story was falling apart.

At the same time, his aunt and uncle had arrived, but the city police decided to keep them away for an interview. When they were told what had happened, the aunt broke down into sobs, but the uncle immediately insisted that Alexander was probably causing trouble again and simply got what he deserved.

So the city officers kept at it, knowing something was off. They tried numerous methods to persuade Alexander into telling them the truth, but he refused to say anything to anyone, even the child psychologist they brought into the room. Alexander was a closed book, saying nothing to anyone by now. He even remained quiet as they set his broken arm and put it into a camo green cast.

Headmaster Haney sighed, “Then, an hour ago, the police interviewed the aunt and uncle again. They needed answers, and these were just about the only people who could really determine what happened. They decided to separate them, and that’s the best thing they ever did.”

“So you were right this morning? His uncle beat the shit out of him?” I asked angrily.

“No, his uncle convinced his aunt to throw him down the stairs when he talked back. He limped out of the house without a coat. The one he had on this morning can’t be explained. Alexander still won’t talk, but he’s safe now. The uncle got what he wanted, but now they’re both in custody. They have three days to get Alexander to talk or the uncle walks,” Headmaster Haney whispered, “and his aunt will endure the charges.”

“But he told her to do it, right? Why else would she push her own nephew down the stairs?”

Headmaster Haney shook his head, “I really don’t know, Arthur. I wish I did. I wish none of this ever happened, especially to a kid like Alexander, but it did. Tomorrow, he’ll be at school. That much was promised to me. I want you to talk to him whenever you can.”

I shook my head, “It won’t help. I need to talk to him now, right now.”

“I don’t know if they’d let you do that. Besides, I’m pretty sure they gave him some sedatives and pain killers when he left the hospital. He's probably asleep.”

“Come on, they can let me in. Maybe I’ll do it in the morning before school. Where did he go?” I asked frantically.

Headmaster Haney looked up to me with pleading eyes, “Arthur, I know what you’re thinking, but there’s nothing I can do, and there’s nothing you can do either. Just know that until this investigation is finished, he’ll be safe. I met the foster mother and she’s a nice young woman. I’ve met her numerous times, and she will take the best possible care of him.”

“And when the court decides the uncle isn’t guilty and sends him back?” I exclaimed.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, but—“

“There’s always a possibility. This is ridiculous,” I huffed, pushing my half-finished pie slice away. “You knew this would happen, and so did I. What does that get us?”

“Probable cause and a waiting game,” Headmaster Haney replied simply. “There’s nothing else we can do right now. I’ve also sent an email to the parents in your class letting them know a classmate was hurt and that their students might want to see the counselor to talk if they struggle with it. They wanted answers, but that’s up to Alexander. You aren’t to say anything no matter what you feel. I will be watching.”

“God,” I sighed, shaking my head, “Has this happened before?”

“Not here, at least not that I know of, but I’ve seen it before. Lakewood Elementary had both the most intelligent children and the worst-treated children all at the same time. I think the record was ten kids removed from their homes in one year. The worst? Well, I wasn’t able to confirm what happened for three months when the autopsy report came back. What made it somehow even worse was that the mother kept coming to school events until the day they arrested her. I’m still shocked that I’m not an alcoholic after everything I saw there,” Headmaster Haney explained, finishing off his milk and placing his fork across his empty plate, “I think this is the first time you’ve seen anything. You don’t get used to it.”

I shook my head again, “No wonder. I’ve never felt so sick in my life.”

“That doesn’t go away either. The good news is it could help you lose weight if the Christmas treats and Teacher Appreciation Days fatten you up,” Headmaster Haney smirked, standing and resting his hand on my shoulder, “I’m sorry this happened. You’re handling this very well, and I have to say I’m quite proud of you. If you need anything, just let me know.”

With that, Headmaster Haney left the house. I remained in the kitchen, picking out the filling of my pie slice and trying to process everything. I knew there was nothing more I could do, so around nine I took over the den computer to grade some assignments. Around eleven, I did one final check of the ungraded assignments in that section.

I nearly shot out of my chair when I saw Alexander’s name. I opened the assignment to find a password-protected attachment. I fired off his student I.D. number faster than ever before. The document opened, but instead of the fill-in worksheet, it was a simple sentence:

“My uncle is a goddamn liar. Please don’t let my aunt go to jail.”

I snatched my cellphone out of my pocket only to see a low percentage. I rushed upstairs and plugged it in, sitting on the floor next to the wall as the line rang four times. Just before the fifth ring, the line cleared and a muffled voice came through.

“Sorry for calling so late,” I apologized, “but I just got an assignment from Alexander.”

“Homework after a day like this?” Headmaster Haney groaned, “Why are you still up?”

“They weren’t going to grade themselves. Look, he didn’t do the homework. He told me his uncle was a liar. He wants me to keep his aunt from going to jail. I need to go to him,” I pleaded.

Headmaster Haney shifted, probably in bed judging by the fabric sounds. He sighed, “Arthur, just get him talking. I’ll send you off the detective’s info in a minute or in the morning. Please, I need to get back to sleep.”

The line went dead, so I went back downstairs and sent back a low grade with the comment “Needs more info.” Ten minutes later, I had Alexander’s story. I gave him a one hundred and checked my email. Headmaster Haney hadn’t sent me the email, but I knew he would in the morning. Then all I had to do was send them the assignment with Alexander’s story. I backed them up just in case, then I lay in my bed for hours, too wired to sleep.


End file.
